The little one
by Ida Mirei
Summary: This is the story about the first meeting of Diego and Bernardo.   Based on the Walt Disney show.


**THE LITTLE ONE**

_This is a story written for IcyWaters who after reading "Just in the middle" was interested in Bernardo's memories about his first meeting with Diego. That is how she inspired it – and I am very grateful for it, as I really enjoyed writing it. _

_It was never mentioned in the movie how Diego and Bernardo met – but I believe that Bernardo's skills give quite clear hint about his past..._

_

* * *

_

**Lisette**

It was all because of Lisette.

Lisette had the loveliest eyes Bernardo had ever seen, large and blue like the summer sky, sweet voice, golden hair and the figure that threw the men on their knees.

Lisette lived with Jacques, a man who was not only strong and commanding but also very handsome: tall and dark.

Bernardo was short and a little plump; his features were open and kind, but a bit childish. And he was definitely not commanding. It would be hard for a mute to be commanding.

No, Bernardo was not the kind of man that women fell in love with on the first sight. Under normal circumstances he would have no chances with Lisette. What's more, under normal circumstances he wouldn't even try to gain the attention of the girl whose heart was already taken.

But the circumstances were that tall, handsome Jacques was treating the pretty Lisette in a way that Bernardo would never treat anyone, neither the man, nor the animal.

At first, when Bernardo started to live in their house in Arreau, he only noticed that Jaques is very harsh with his lovely friend and accounts for her each _centimo_, giving her hardly enough money for food. For Bernardo it was inconceivable. If he had such a pretty girl – and any money – he would give her everything, leaving for himself only so much to buy her some flowers. Yet, he didn't want to interfere with lovers' affairs.

Then, however, he understood that Jaques simply enjoyed humiliating Lisette, yelling at her and calling her names at any occasion. Again, there was nothing Bernardo could do about it, but when he was alone with the poor girl, he did his best to cheer her up. He made small dolls from wood and straw for her, picked up some wild flowers or showed some of his magic tricks that made her tears dry and smile appear on her lovely face.

A magic trick can be very absorbing and one never knows where the missing coin can reappear: under the plate, behind the picture or in the girl's hair. When one day Jacques came home a bit too early and found Bernardo and Lisette a bit too preoccupied with… magic, he started a row that changed Bernardo's life forever.

Bernardo was not exactly a fighter type, but he was cunning, agile and knew some… finessed techniques. To the surprise of all three of them, strong and tall Jacques left the house in rather bad shape and the humiliating hurry.

Only after Bernardo got rid of his opponent, did he realize the size of his troubles.

"_Dieu_, you must hurry," whispered Lisette, scared to death. "You must run away. I know him, he will denounce you."

When you are a spy in a foreign country, the last thing you should do is to poach the girl of your liaison.

* * *

When twelve years ago, the Napoleon troops entered Spain, young Bernardo shared the common enthusiasm. His friends and neighbors gathered in the wineries on the streets of Saragossa and discussed the new era of freedom and equality. Bernardo sat with them, listening with excitement.

The new era for Spain coincided with the new stage in Bernardo's life. He was born and brought up in the traveling circus where he learnt all kind of sleigh of hands and tricks with cards, balls and coins... The only part of circus life he didn't find very appealing was the acrobatics on horseback; apart from that he was just perfect in all kind of performances. The fact that he was a mute only raised the interest of the audience.

However, his father wished a more stable life for his sons than this of vagabond. When Bernardo's elder brother married, his whole family settled in Saragossa where his parents opened the small grocery and his brother started also to work as the blacksmith helper. Bernardo made no decision concerning his future yet, but his father urged him on choosing some serious profession. However, Bernardo delayed that moment and wandered thorough the streets and taverns that in 1807 were so full of hope and excitement.

Two years later, the French colors were not welcomed with hope, but with hate. On the streets of Saragossa there were no wineries or taverns, only the smoldering rubbles and Bernardo had no family anymore. Neither did he have the serious profession. He did however obtain many skills, unsettling in the times of peace, but useful in the times of war.

At first, Saragossa _guerrilleros_ didn't want to accept him into their ranks, not believing that inconspicuous cripple can be of any use. Only after the show of Bernardo's magic tricks did they decide that Bernardo, mute or not, was the man with the most dexterous fingers they ever met. And, to put it straight, among the partisans a good thief is always welcome.

Bernardo soon specialized in stealing the post from French couriers. It was then when he started to pretend for the first time that he is deaf too, after noticing that the people easily tend to ignore the person who cannot participate in a conversation in any way. Ignore – and speak freely, about anything.

So, Bernardo was a perfect spy.

Quiet, not outstanding, with open and a bit naïve expression, and face more and more chubby the older he got. Deaf and mute. Kindly dimwit.

Only that he was not a dimwit.

Soon his talent and possibilities were noticed and he got the quiet proposition to take more specialized tasks, proposition that remained in force even after the Little Caporal was send to await for his death on the rocky island.

One could say that Bernardo was in the middle of the very professional career, when he arrived to Arreau and behaved in that very, very unprofessional way. His aim was the tavern in Montgailard, where he had to meet a certain _Colonel _and buy a small, but expensive package of documents. Jacques had to take care about him until the arrival of the courier with money to pay for the transaction.

Now he was without money and shelter and probably already chased by the guards. The wisest thing to do would be to return home as quickly and discreetly as possibly. Yet as the foul-up was entirely his fault he was reluctant to put up with the failure. He decided to go to Montgailard on his own and, as he had obtained no money, simply steal the package like he did it so many times with the documents carried by the French couriers.

He smiled to Lisette for the last time, waved his hand mysteriously in the air and pulled out a red rose from his sleeve. As the girl took it smiling through tears, Bernardo quietly exit through the back door on the small, empty yard.

He was to meet Jacques once more, but he never met Lisette again, though he didn't forget her. Even many years later, in the sunny land of California, the sight of raven-haired _senoritas_ brought him the memories of the golden locks of his French friend. Bernardo wondered what might have happened with her – he hoped that she finally found some nice man who brought her flowers and laughter instead of tears.

* * *

**Senor Moreno**

Traveling without money is never easy. Half way to Montgalliard, Bernardo had to stop in the tavern to get suitable care and rest for his horse. He knew that when he succeeds with stealing the maps, he will have to flee to Spain in the utmost hurry, so his mount had to be well rested and fed.

The problem was he had no money. A few coins he accidentally had with him were enough as the advance, but not to cover the whole account - and there wasn't even a _centimo_ in his pocket. He could try to run away from the tavern without paying, but it would be rather risky. Anyway, to finish his assignment and return to Spain he needed money – and he needed it quickly. The solution was rather simple. _Not a king of job my father dreamt for me,_ though Bernardo with a grain of regret, _but if I have to steal, at least I know how to do it._

Bernardo entered the common sala and, pretending to be occupied with plaiting a straw rope into a small doll, observed the tavern guests. Against the dark, simple clothes of farmers returning from market in Pouzac, he immediately noticed the well cut, elegant suit of the young man who was waiting for the innkeeper leaning casually on the counter. _That one won't miss one or two franks. He will not even notice their loss,_ thought Bernardo, assessing the quality of the fabric the traveler's clothes were made of.

"Monsieur? How can we be of service?" the inn-keeper must have come to the same conclusion concerning the content of the young man's purse as Bernardo and was bowing with the politeness reserved for the special guests.

"A room for me and a place in the stables for my horse, if you would be so kind. And something to eat for both of us," replied the young man equally politely and finished with a merry smile.

The innkeeper took the gold coin the man handed him, quickly hid it and gave his guest the rest in silver franks. _That is exactly what I need,_ Bernardo watched attentively as the man put the coins into the pocket of his jacket. Casually he moved toward the young traveler.

In the meantime the innkeeper took out the register book and looked cautiously at his guest.

"Forgive me for asking, but you are a foreigner, Monsieur?"

"Is my accent so terrible? Yes, I…" the stranger chuckled, but he didn't finish the sentence, as Bernardo bumped into him pretending to have slipped on the freshly washed floor. For a moment he was leaning on the young man as if seeking support, and this short second was enough for the coins to change their location from the pocket in the elegant woolen jacket into Bernardo's old coat. The young man of course didn't notice anything, only caught Bernardo to stabilize him.

"Carefully, my friend," he said politely but the innkeeper chimed in:

"He cannot hear you, Monsieur. And he doesn't speak. To tell the truth, I think he is… _un peu imbécile_…"

"He does not look so," protested the young man and nodded to Bernardo smiling. Bernardo a bit uncertainly smiled back and withdrew a few steps, thinking he hadn't seen a man smiling so sincerely for a long time. It seemed he has just stolen money from the most polite man in southern France.

"Monsieur? I must put your name into the register," the innkeeper reminded knocking the huge book lying in front of him.

"Oh, yes." The young man turned to him forgetting Bernardo. "Esteban Moreno. I travel to visit my friend in Tarbes."

"So, a Spaniard, si? Please, sign here, Senor," the innkeeper gave the young man a little shabby feather.

Bernardo's face went low. Among all these frog eaters he had to come across the Spaniard… And such a friendly boy… Yet, in spite of remorse, there was nothing he could do about it, other than settle the account and leave the tavern, as soon as possible.

Esteban Moreno signed the register and finally headed toward his room, so Bernardo neared to the counter, when the other Spaniard suddenly stopped:

"I would also need some provisions tomorrow: bread, wine and so on. Could you ask now someone to prepare it? I would like to set off long before dawn." Having said that, the young man reached to his pocket for some additional coins for the innkeeper.

Bernardo stiffened and almost closed his eyes, when Senor Moreno unsuccessfully searched his pocket. Luckily, after the while the young man only shrugged his shoulders and once again took out his purse. While he was approaching the counter, apparently not paying attention to the disappearance of the coins, Bernardo slowly let the breath out and just in case turned back, trying to keep out of Moreno's sight.

Suddenly he heard a clatter of the upturning chair. Before he managed to jump away, the heavy wooden piece of furniture tripped up Bernardo's legs and he landed on the ground, knocking over Senor Moreno from his feet. For the moment they both crumbled on the floor but the young man was first to stand up:

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, I didn't notice this chair," he explained clearly ashamed, helping Bernardo to get on his feet. "Oh I forgot, you do not hear…" Senor Moreno silenced and instead bowed to Bernardo with apologizing smile.

Bernardo quickly nodded his head, signing that he is all right and moved under the other side of the counter. He was watching anxiously, as Senor Moreno was finishing his arrangements with the innkeeper and finally went up the stairs to the first floor of the tavern where the guests' rooms were situated.

Only when the young man climbed upstairs, did Bernardo dare to approach the counter himself and knock into the account books signing that he wants to pay.

The innkeeper, who suddenly lost his friendly smile, quickly summed up his account and wrote the necessary amount on the small piece of paper. Bernardo reached to his pocket and… stiffened for the second time that day.

His pocket was empty.

He searched hectically the pocket once more, hoping that the coins might have fallen under the lining – but the deeper he checked, the more empty it was. The innkeeper looked at him suspiciously and Bernardo knew that in few seconds he will call for the big bruiser drowsing near the doors. To delay that moment, Bernardo smiled uncertainly, calmingly waved the hand and reached to the second pocket. He knew perfectly well that was empty, yet hoped to gain enough time to find the route to escape. If the innkeeper turns him to the city guards and they start to examine his reasons for being here more closely… Bernardo felt the cold sweet on his temple and made a small step back.

The innkeeper rose behind the counter and looked in the direction of his guard.

And in that moment, Bernardo's fingers in the pocket that should be empty like his stomach, came across the heavy coin.

Totally stunned he pulled it out. It was definitely not any of the coins that he had stolen from Senor Moreno… but surely enough to settle the account and buy provisions for the further journey.

When the innkeeper, suddenly again with the cordial smile, was counting the rest, Bernardo, still stupefied, looked helplessly around, searching for the solution of the riddle. Finally he looked up in the direction of Moreno's room… and the young man was standing in front of it, leaning over the banister, smoking a cigar and watching the scene with amusement. When his eyes met for a moment Moreno grinned cheerfully showing his white teeth in a wide smile, saluted Bernardo raising his hand and turned back entering his room.

Bernardo regretted for a moment, that he was too stunned to at least thank the stranger with a nod or smile. Yes, the young Senor Moreno was an unusual man and it would be nice to get to know him better... But their paths parted right there, Moreno was going to meet his friend and Bernardo – to face his destiny.

* * *

**The loop**

Montgailard was a trap.

Bernardo kept the necessary caution. When he arrived at the tavern, where his _Colonel _should be staying, he observed it long enough to make sure that the place is safe. He noticed nothing suspicious, so, thanks to the rest of Moreno's gift, accommodated himself in the tavern and quietly observed the guests. The _Colonel _was easy to recognize – loud and arrogant, and the only one in the uniform. He left the tavern heading to the town and it was obvious that he is going to look for some entertainment there. It meant that Bernardo had the whole night to calmly search his room. However, he waited patiently until all servants and other guests went to beds. No sooner than the whole building was dark and quiet, did he sneak to the _Colonel's _room.

And then suddenly the whole room filled with soldiers.

They must have been waiting for him hidden somewhere in a trap, waiting exactly for a mute, little man. Bernardo tried to pretend that he is just a common thief, but his disability was the undeniable proof that he is the man they were looking for.

Bernardo cursed Jacques for betrayal – and himself for recklessness. He believed that Jacques will head the chase on the routes leading to the border. Instead, they just waited for him in the aim of his mission. If he only wasn't too proud to admit his mistake, if he only had returned to Spain immediately from Lisette's home! Now it was too late for regrets.

He saw the next dawn only because the _Capitaine _who caught him was a formalist convinced that the only suitable death for spies is hanging. As soon as the sun had risen, Bernardo heard the soldiers preparing the provisional gallows.

That sound was terrible. Bernardo swirled around the cellar he was locked in, but there was no way to escape. No way to escape, no way to delay the execution, no magic tricks to get him out of troubles this time... _Even the masters of the circus arena cannot walk through the stone walls..._ Bernardo thought bitterly.

The soldiers didn't even want to question him. How could they question the mute? _If I could speak, if I could only speak, I would lie myself out of this! _Until that moment Bernardo never really complained at his disability. His fingers and face spoke more than words of other men. But that day...he felt just helpless.

To distract gloomy thoughts even for a while he tool a handful of straw from the basket with eggs and absently plaited it into a small doll. When he finished, he noticed that the shape of the doll resembled a little, plump man. _This is all that is going to be left of me in a few months... when my body will turn into the ground..._

When he heard the door open, he thought he was ready and calmly went with the soldiers to the yard_. _Yet when they led him to the gallows and made him enter the wooden chest, that was to serve as the trapdoor, he understood that he is terribly not ready.

Bernardo looked desperately around – it was such a beautiful winter morning. Late morning, almost noon. The sun was high and shined so lovely, making even that small, dirty yard look merrily. Some birds were twittering, the soldier's horses waiting by the wall were snorting, the air was fresh and brisk. The world was full of life.

Then he glanced for the first time on the loop hanging in front of him and from that moment on he couldn't take his eyes from it. His whole vision narrowed to the circle of the rope. There were so many fascinating things behind it! The tavern, the road, the forest on the horizon – yet the loop was separating Bernardo from all of them.

One of the soldiers approached him with the blindfold, but Bernardo shook his head. Maybe he was scared, but he was not going to show it. Besides, the world was too beautiful to lose even the last few seconds of its sight.

He waited for someone to put the loop on his neck. _At least it will finally disappear from my eyes, _Bernardothought a bit deliriously.

But instead, he heard the sound that brought him to his senses: clatter of horse's hoofs.

He looked quickly in that direction, hoping to see some soldier with orders to transport him somewhere – but the man who just arrived, wasn't a soldier. It was Esteban Moreno.

The young man froze, noticing the gallows and shook with disgust. Then he moved his sight at the convict and his eyes widened with surprise when he recognized Bernardo.

For a moment their eyes met, as during they encounter in the tavern, no earlier than the day before. Bernardo could say nothing but, not knowing why and how that man could help him, sent him a pleading glance.

One pleading glance.

It was enough.

"What are you doing with this man?" Moreno did not dismount, only neared his horse to the C_apitaine._

"It is not your business, Monsieur. He is a criminal," replied the soldier irritated with the interruption.

"And what did he do? Stole a few coins from someone? You cannot hang him for that!" Moreno laughed in disbelief. His voice was so... polite and friendly. And he looked so young and innocent! In the dim light of the tavern he seemed more mature. _He is just a boy, young, naïve boy... Good, but naïve... I shouldn't have involved him in it, _thought Bernardo loosing his shadow of hope.

But then he noticed that Moreno still did not dismount, only moved his horse very strangely in the middle of the lancers, placing himself back to the wall.

The _Capitaine _was not as observant as Bernardo. He only waved his hand angrily:

"He did something more... And you shouldn't consider yourself with it, Monsieur... That knowledge might be dangerous for you. Judging from your accent, you are Spaniard just as he."

"Is it a crime? I just want to know what that did man. He is a friend of mine. If I can help him..."

"If he were a friend of yours, Monsieur, you would need help yourself, but I see you are lying!" The C_apitaine _laughed into his face. "Now, take your compassionate heart and go your way, while you can! Really, a Spaniard traveling in France alone should be more careful!"

The C_apitaine _wavedfor the soldier staying near Bernardo, and the loop was finally put on Bernardo's neck.

"For the last time I beg you to reconsider..." started Moreno resting one of his hands on his saddle bag, but he didn't finish the sentence, as the few things happened almost simultaneously.

The C_apitaine _gave the signal to the soldier who knocked the chest from Bernardo's feet.

The knife that suddenly appeared in Moreno's hand flew though the air.

The chest turned away and Bernardo lost the support.

The knife cut the rope over his head.

Bernardo landed heavily on the ground, badly bruising his bottom... but his neck was safe.

Before he fully understood what happened, he saw the _Capitane _landing on the ground near him, so without thinking, he stunned him, grabbing some forgotten brick into his tied hands. Raising his head, he noticed the young Spaniard turning to the next soldier and knocking him down, while his horse was rearing, not allowing other soldiers to get too near to him.

_Que Dios nos auyde,_ thought Bernardo, suddenly very pious, and as the man knowing,that Heaven help the people, who are able to help themselves, ran for Moreno's knife. He found the blade, quickly cut the rope tying his wrists, took of the loop from his neck and turned to the battle field, just in time to knock down the last soldier.

"What took you so long? Well, better late than later. Now better hurry," said Esteban Moreno looking anxiously at the soldiers, crumbling slowly on the ground. Before Bernardo managed to react, the young man hit his temple muttering: "He does not hear," and simply grabbed Bernardo by the collar of his jacket, pulling him on one of the soldiers' horses.

Now more explanations were needed. They just urged the horses into gallop, leaving the ill-fated yard of the small tavern.

* * *

**The decent men**

Just behind the town, Esteban slowed a little, searching for some suitable sidetrack. They already heard the chase behind them and had no chances to lose it on the highway. Bernardo has been in this region many times and knew the surroundings like his own pocket, so he pointed a small path which he knew that was leading to the forest.

His new friend nodded and followed him without delay.

For the next few hours Bernardo led them through the meadows and forests, choosing the road along the streams when it was possible to loose the pursuit. Finally, when he was certain, that soldiers lost their trace, they had to find a place to rest. Esteban's horse, who in the morning covered the whole distance between Pouzac and Montgailard, was just too tired to go any further, especially that he was still carrying the full saddlebags of his master.

Bernardo stopped on a nice little meadow, well hidden in a small valley, with a small stream crossing it. He found this place a few years ago and from time to time slept here when he couldn't show himself in the tavern. Esteban, after the short examination, seemed to be satisfied with the place too.

They dismounted and Bernardo wanted to take care of his horse, but suddenly felt that his legs are so weak, he had to sit on the ground. As long as he was concentrated on the ride, searching for the suitable path and loosing the chase, he didn't have time to think what happened – or what could have happened – in the morning. Now the feelings almost knocked him down.

_I would have been dead already,_ he thought, looking around. All of his senses sharpened unbearably. The sky was incredible blue, the dry grass – soft, the pines smelled with wet wood and resin. It was so near, that he would never feel or see all these things anymore – now the accumulation of sensations was stunning.

"Here," Esteban gently poked his arm and handed him a small flask.

Bernardo took the big gulp, enjoying the sharp taste of brandy burning his gullet. He returned the flask to its owner, but Esteban took only one draught and pointed Bernardo to finish.

It was a good idea. Brandy immediately damped his unnaturally sharpened senses and Bernardo stopped shivering and started to think logically again.

He looked at the man who saved his life. Esteban Moreno was a bit shaken too – Bernardo saw it from the way the young man breathed deeply and tried – unsuccessfully – to order the disheveled hair falling on his temple. However, immediately after taking care of Bernardo, he moved to his horse, took off the saddle and bags and started to wipe off the shivering animal.

"You have been very brave, today… Very brave and very fast. I know you are tired, I am sorry for this. Now you will rest as long as you wish," he muttered calmingly to his mount. The animal stood patiently, snorting quietly in response. Its chills slowly soothed, just as Esteban's breath. Bernardo thought that it was as if the rider and the horse communicated and calmed each other.

Esteban covered carefully the tired animal with a horse-cloth and tend with the second mount. The soldier's horse accepted it equally gratefully, fawning to the young man. _He has the way with horses… He would make a carrier at the arena, _Bernardo smiled mentally, remembering how men with such skills were appreciated in the circus. He thought he should try to help Esteban, but he still didn't trust his legs.

When the young man finished with the horses, he took off his jacket and started to clean it, sitting in front of Bernardo.

"The first question, my new friend, is whether you really cannot hear?" he asked with doubt. "You seem to catch very well what is happening around you, especially with the soldiers on our tails."

Bernardo hesitated for a moment. Why should he hide the truth before the man who just saved his life? But the years of caution and mistrust to anyone won and he shook his head waiting for the only logical answer in this situation's question.

"So, how can you understand what I am speaking to you?…"

Bernardo pointed at his eyes, made the gesture of speaking and pointed at the mouth.

"Ah, you can read it from the lips!" guessed immediately Esteban. Bernardo could swear that merry sparks shined in the young man's eyes, but Esteban only made sure: "So, if I sit in front of you and speak clearly, you understand me?"

Bernardo nodded.

"Good, that will make the things much easier. I will do my best to understand your signs. But – there is something you cannot sign me. Can you write?" asked Esteban clearing a small piece of the ground from grass. When Bernardo nodded once again, he gave him a small stick: "Then please, write me your name."

Bernardo did as he asked and the young man repeated his name:

"Bernardo… So, nice to meet you, Bernardo," he grinned merrily. "I am Esteban Moreno. I am traveling… well, I was traveling to Tarbes. Now it seems that I am heading, rather hastily, toward the Spanish border," he finished with chuckle.

In that moment, Bernardo realized that he didn't even thank the young man for who saving his life got himself in quite serious troubles. For the second time that day, he regretted not being able to speak. How hard it was to sign these two simple words 'thank you'!

But Esteban understood him and smiled wider than ever before.

"No need to thank, Bernardo! My father always says that it is a duty of each decent man to help the innocent and weaker. Although I suspect that you are far from innocent, my friend," he giggled wryly, "against these four soldiers you were definitely weaker."

Bernardo raised his eyebrows, seriously doubting if Esteban's father meant by his advice attacking the soldiers and pulling the convict from the gallows rope. However, he was not going to complain.

Esteban shook the last strip of dust from his jacket and put it on, carefully correcting the cuffs and collar of his shirt. Bernardo had to work hard to suppress the smile. Apparently his new friend found it important to look proper even on this mountain meadow.

"Now, Bernardo, there are many things we have to talk about, but the first is: what are we going to eat? Thanks to my Branco," Esteban pointed at his horse, "we have all the provisions I took from the tavern."

The young man unpacked his saddlebags, pulling out meat, bread and wine. "Brandy is over," he chuckled scornfully.

Bernardo however stiffened. The provisions from the tavern in Pouzac. The register book. Esteban was behaving as if he was participating in some student's antic, whereas he was in serious danger now. The soldiers are going to search for him, ask in the tavern for the young Spaniard in elegant clothes… And once they learn his name from the register… they may even try to pursue him in Spain… Bernardo knew that he is far too insignificant for his employers to risk the international scandal in the defense of man who saved his life.

He shook the young man's arm and started to sign hectically. However, when Esteban understood the reason of his worry, he only shrugged his shoulders. "You saw me signing the register? Well, let them find it! Do not worry, once we will be in Spain, we both are going to be perfectly safe," he said lightly and started to prepare the small fire.

Bernardo was a little irritated with the recklessness of his new friend, but right now he had to see to current problems. He moved Esteban aside and started to prepare the wood and fire himself. Even if this young dandy was a good fighter, he couldn't have much idea how to make small, inconspicuous fire.

Esteban looked a bit amused, but waited patiently aside until Bernardo finished. In the meantime, he shared the food: he tore the loaf of bread into two parts and then looked a bit helplessly at the smoked ham. When he finally unsheathed his rapier and prepared to attack the poor piece of meat with his formidable weapon, Bernardo reminded that he still had his knife he grabbed to cut his bonds. He took the blade now to return it to his owner, but before handing it to Esteban, he looked at the knife for a moment.

It was the strange weapon, not fitting neither to that cold night, nor to the obviously rich man sitting in front of him. The hand guard was made of some kind of unknown, dark wood, bringing in mind exotic, warm and remote lands. Its shape was a bit odd, but very simple – not a kind of thing appreciated by wealthy noblemen. It would rather suit a farmer or shepherd. Yet, the knife must have been used a lot, the wood of the hand guard was smoothened to the shape of his owner's fingers.

"You took my knife! Thank you, I thought it was lost," pleased Esteban and explained, seeing that Bernardo is a bit confused with the shape of the weapon: "My friend made it for me many years ago."

Bernardo gave him the knife, throwing the last scrutinizing glance on the hand guard – in spite of its weariness, there was still clearly visible pattern of strange signs. Bernardo had never seen anything like it before.

"These are Indians' traditional signs. My friend is half-native," explained the young man taking the knife.

Indians! That word sounded in Bernardo's ears like music, reminded him that as the young boy he dreamt about the long travels. Then he thought that if Esteban had an Indian friend, he must be from the colonies. Bernardo felt a sting of envy that this young boy has already crossed the boundless ocean which he only admired from the coast…

Esteban sliced the meat and then they ate in silence. Apparently, Senor Moreno, in spite of his young age, knew that all things must be settled in the proper order and the meal always should have the priority, as he didn't say anything until most of the food was gone and the bottle of wine – empty.

Then however he sat more comfortably and looked cautiously at Bernardo. Suddenly he didn't look so boyish anymore and Bernardo felt a bit unsure under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Now, my friend, we should talk," Esteban said seriously.

Bernardo took the deep breath. That was the moment he was afraid. His saviour had the right to ask questions – but there were many answers Bernardo couldn't give him. How was he going to satisfy his curiosity hiding the things he had to hide? It is difficult to tell half-lies, when you have to speak only with your fingers…

But Esteban asked only three questions.

"Judging from the behavior of this French _Capitaine, _you are a spy, Bernardo," he stated calmly, and when Bernardo nodded he asked simply: "For whom do you spy?"

Bernardo hesitated for a moment and then on the piece of land, where he earlier wrote his name, he started to draw the Spanish coat of arms.

"Ha, so you see, what we did was even patriotic!" pleased Esteban, as if they earlier quarreled over that matter. Then he looked at Bernardo and asked the second question:

"You just got into their hands by accident, or someone denounced you?"

Bernardo stiffened surprised. Was it of any importance? However, he replied raising two fingers which meant the second option.

Esteban nodded and then asked the last question that almost knocked Bernardo down.

"So, are we now scurrying to Spain… or do you prefer at first to pay the visit to the man who betrayed you?…"

Bernardo glanced at him shocked and scared and immediately shook his head in denial. Yet, Esteban was only looking at him with knowing smile and waiting, until the shaking turned into the nodding…

* * *

**Tricks and magic**

When Bernardo woke up after the few hours of deep and – thanks to brandy and wine – dreamless sleep and soberly analyzed the situation, he came to the conclusion that his new friend is the most reckless fool he had ever met. First of all, he put himself in danger to save the man he knew only as pickpocket. Secondly, he believed immediately in Bernardo's story, without asking for any proof. And finally – now he was sleeping calmly as a baby, with his head resting on the saddle. _He needs someone to take care about him, and he needs it rather quickly, _thought Bernardo, sighed heavily and started to do the only logical thing in their present situation: breakfast.

As soon as the smell of roasting meat filled the air, Esteban immediately woke up.

"I see that you are a man of many talents, Bernardo," he smiled, seeing the remains of their supplies arranged in quite decent meal. "It is good to have a companion who can conjure up the breakfast from nothing!"

Bernardo chuckled mentally on the words 'conjure up' and decided that it is a good occasion to show off a little. He pulled out his handkerchief, threw it over the mug with water that stood in front of Esteban and turned the bundle upside down. He waved his hands mysteriously a few times over it and unwrapped the material, presenting the empty – and dry handkerchief.

Esteban watched him with widely open eyes and fascination that reminded Bernardo about little boys crowding around the arena in the circus.

"That is just incredible!" exclaimed Esteban. "I noticed, that you have agile finger," he winked, "but I had no idea you are such master!"

Bernardo, content with praise, to reciprocate the compliment, made the gesture of moving something from one pocket to another, then pointed at Esteban, and nodded with approval.

"Oh, so you liked my little joke in the tavern?" the young man laughed wholeheartedly. "It is nothing in comparison to you! Just a little trick my uncle from Barcelona taught me. Oh, you should meet my Uncle Esteban one day. Something tells me you would get along very well!"

Bernardo didn't fully understood the mischievous sparks in his friend's eyes, but he thought warmly, that Esteban's father must be very attached to this relative, if he named his son after him.

"Umm… Bernardo… where is my mug?..." Esteban interrupted his thoughts, poking his arm.

Bernardo smiled and pointed him the saddle lying on the grass behind them. The mug stood just on its middle and was full of water.

Esteban laughed and raised the mug... but before drinking, sniffed cautiously its content...

* * *

As soon as they finished breakfast, Esteban searched his bags and pulled out a small, but rather detailed map of Southern France.

"We shouldn't linger too much, we have stayed here long enough. Bernardo, show me where that man lives," he asked, unfolding the map.

He didn't have to explain who was he speaking about and Bernardo pointed Arreau.

"So near? Good! So, we will make a new camp near this town and then work out a plan... I am sure that you can find a new hiding for us, don't you, Bernardo?"

Bernardo nodded absently, still looking at the map. His eyes fell at the inscription 'Tarbes' and thought about the friend Esteban was going to visit. Soon this man would start to get anxious, why Esteban did not appear... With hesitation Bernard pointed Tarbes at the map and signed: two men shaking hands, Esteban, negation, searching... It took a while until Esteban understood him.

"Ah, so you think my friend will be anxious with my absence? Well, I am not under the delusion that she will miss me long!" he laughed lightly, but Bernardo looked at him surprised. She?

Bernardo made in the air the shape of the sandglass watching at his friend questioningly. Esteban for a moment was confused and when he caught the meaning of the sign, he burst out with laugh:

"So, that is how you call women? How... uhm... Anyway, yes, only that in this case you should rather say..." he paused and drew in the air sandglass too, but of a bit corrected shape.

Bernardo only raised his eyebrows. If the figure drawn in the air resembled the reality, Esteban really did make the great sacrifice resigning from the visit.

* * *

They rode of course in silence, as Esteban didn't say anything when Bernardo couldn't watch his lips. Bernardo regretted more and more his deception – if he hadn't pretended to be deaf, now his companion could tell him some story. Perhaps about… Indians? Bernardo sighed dreamy and concentrated on the road.

They were riding rather slowly, through small, half-wild forest paths, yet before sundown they should be near Arreau. And then… What will he do when they arrive to Arreau? Bernardo started to think about his next meeting with Jacques. Well, of course he didn't wish Jacques death, as he didn't wish death to anyone. But… apart from that, he wished him all the worst, and that left quite a large field for imagination. _Besides,_ thought soberly Bernardo, _it would be nice to arrange our visit in a way allowing us to leave it safe and free…_

Suddenly, Esteban shook his arm and when Bernardo looked at him, pointed at the small village in the valley before them.

"Bernardo, I will go there. That is a good occasion to get new clothes for both of us. We cannot enter any town in that outfit."

Bernardo nodded. His old jacket looked rather inconspicuous, but the soldiers must have remembered it. And for Esteban, it was definitely advisable to wear something less eye catching.

When Esteban rode to the village, Bernardo waited at the small meadow, observing watchfully the only path leading to it. Yet, he was taken by the surprise when his friend emerged just behind his back. _He is simply showing off, _Bernardo thought with irritation caused by being caught off-guard.

Esteban threw him a dark jacket. He himself was already wearing a black, rather weary coat.

"There was not much choice," he said pointing at his new garment, "but I think it will do very well. I like black. What do you think, Bernardo, do I look like a merchant now?" he grinned.

Bernardo pretended not to have understood the question, as he didn't want to discourage his friend. No matter what the young man would wear, he would never look like a merchant. _Rather like a highwayman, _Bernardo thought a bit cutting, looking at the slim dark silhouette.

"I brought some food too," continued Esteban, not aware of Bernardo's thoughts. "We may as well make a small break here and discuss further plans."

They sat comfortably on the grass over the food wrapped in the linen cloth and the young man started to speak.

"I have been thinking, Bernardo, what shall we do. I could gladly call out this man, but something tells me that you would like to tend to your business alone," he interrupted for a moment and nodded, seeing Bernardo's eyes. "So, I believe that each man in his fight should use the weapon he masters the best. And in your case, my friend, I guess that it will be a bit of... magic," Esteban chuckled on the surprised expression of the man sitting in front of him.

"Believe me, Bernardo, even the lion can be defeated by the fox, if the fox thinks faster than the lion... Wouldn't it be nice to pay this man like for like? I am sure, that when he denounced you, he failed to mention his part in the whole affair. He probably just said that he learnt about your mission by accident. What if he would be arrested now as the spy?... And with undeniable proof of his guilt... that would magically appear in his pocket just before arrest?..." Esteban looked merrily at Bernardo.

The mute raised questioningly his eyebrows. The idea was appealing – but what proof could they fabricate?

Esteban hesitated.

"Well... Bernardo... can't you think of something? Something that would point at this man as the one bought by Spaniards?"

Bernardo shook his head helplessly. Esteban looked around impatiently and continued a little irritated:

"Think, Bernardo! Don't you... have something... that could serve as the proof of Jacques guilt and yet wouldn't give the Frenchmen any information about your... employers?"

Bernardo grinned, struck by a sudden idea, as he reminded himself about the short note he had hidden under the lining of his jacket. The soldiers in Montgailard searched him so negligently that they didn't find it. Now it would serve him very well. He reached for his jacket to pull it out when he abruptly froze.

Esteban's question was just too... fitting. And he never wrote him the name of the man who betrayed him.

He slowly raised his eyes on the young man, watching him scrutinizingly. Esteban shifted a bit uncomfortably and tugged his ear.

"Ehm... well... yes, Bernardo... I did check your jacket... when you were sleeping..." he confessed a bit ashamed and finished apologetically, "I just wanted to make sure that you are the man you claim to be... You know... Spaniard traveling alone in France shouldn't be too trustful..."

Bernardo took the sharp breath and looked at the young man with irritation, but after the second the irritation gave place to the amusement. _When your life depends on one man, it is better, if he is a thoughtful one..._

Bernardo reached for the note and read it once more to check that there would be nothing potentially dangerous for anyone except Jacques.

No. There was only Jacques' name, address and brief information: 'In Arreau you will stay with this man. He has been paid to provide you with all help and shelter from the guards and soldiers.' Bernardo kept this note in case he would have to remind Jacques about his commitments. Now it was just...

"Perfect," stated Esteban who was reading it too behind Bernardo's shoulder.

Bernardo folded the note and hid it carefully in his new jacket. In the meantime, Esteban searched his bag and took out a small pencil and piece of paper.

"Now, Bernardo, it is easy work. We will plant your note to our poor Jacques, whereas I will write a small information for the soldiers... and deliver it to them so that they could find him just in time..."

Bernardo grinned merrily, excited with the adventure ahead of them.

On the second thought however, he felt a sting of anxiety. Messing with soldiers in their situation was not very wise... At least this boy shouldn't push his luck, just return home... And Bernardo would settle his accounts alone, without endangering his new friend...

He reached for the map, poked the line of the Spanish border and then pointed at Esteban. Then he showed Arreau and pointed at himself.

But the young man only shook his head.

"No, Bernardo, I am not going to leave you here... My father always says, that the decent man never forgets to repay his debts... or the debts of his friends..." and after these innocent words he smiled so roguishly that Bernardo thought that the older Senor Moreno must be quite a scamp... or his son is the most creative in the interpretation of his teachings.

* * *

**A matter of honor**

At first everything went according to the plan.

They found a nice, small meadow, quite near the road, but well hidden from prying eyes. When all their bags were safely covered with the bushes, they rode slowly around Arreau, to enter the town from the south – just in case to mislead the pursuers, who were surely searching after two men heading toward the border, not in the opposite direction.

It had been raining since midday. Small, bothersome rain that turned the land into the mud, soaked their clothes and made them shiver with cold. Bernardo hoped that they will manage to settle all their affairs in Arreau as soon as possible and then rush toward warm, merry Spanish taverns, because...

"I come from the land where the rain is one of the best God's blessings... But it is usually warmer there," Esteban wrapped his coat closer around him.

There was one good side of this weather – they could hide their faces under the hoods without raising too much suspicion. The streets of the town were almost empty. After hiding their horses behind some small blacksmith's shed, Bernardo strode quite decisively toward Jacques' house. Only once through the curtains of rain he saw the uniforms of the patrol and quickly jumped into the dark, deep gate. Then he reminded with anxiety that he was not alone this time. Luckily, Esteban didn't need any warning and was already hidden on the other side of the street. With the dark material of his coat covering his face and palms he looked like a blurry shadow in the rain. The patrol passed by without noticing any of them. _He may not have my expertise, but definitely disposes of the great inborn talent, _thought Bernardo with appreciation, seeing the black shadow on the other side of the street is cautiously changing into the tall form of his friend.

Finally, they reached their destination and Bernardo pointed the house that belonged to Jacques. Esteban made the sign of a circle, suggesting that they try to get to the house from the backyard. Bernardo regretted once again lying that he cannot hear. Now, with the hood over his head, Esteban resigned from speaking and they used only hand signals. _Strange that in spite of this we can communicate so quickly. Usually people who know me for a short time, are too confused to even start a conversation... even knowing, that I can hear..., _thought Bernardoas they were sneaking to the backyard.

Then they noticed the light of the lamp in the widows on the first floor. Jacques – or Lisette – must have been there. For a moment, Bernardo was wondering what he will do if instead they meet Lisette - it would certainly complicate things. After the moment of confusion, Bernardo decided that in such case he will do what Lisette will want him to. _He will understand, _he thought with certainty looking at Esteban, _he seems to be quite weak-willed when in comes to women too_.

In the meantime, Esteban took out the denouncement they wrote today and disappeared in the darkness. He returned after the longer while and nodded, signing that the first part of the plan is done. They decided that he will give the letter to one of the tavern boys asking him to deliver it to soldiers after one hour. Of course they could not be certain that the boy will wait exactly one hour, so now they had to hurry.

Esteban pointed to a small balcony under the lightened widows and started to climb toward them. Bernardo followed him with equal ease and soon they knelt on the wet boards of the balcony, cautiously looking into the room.

And from then on, things stopped going according to the plan.

Jacques was not alone, but the second person in the room was not Lisette. It was a middle-aged man in dark clothes, black beard and big, red bruise on his temple. He was sitting on the chair looking a little dizzy and Jacques was pressing the knife against his breast.

Bernardo immediately guessed the identity of the stranger, but if he had any further doubts, on the table laid the leather bag and a few little sacks, evidently loaded with coins.

The courier with money for the French _Colonel –_ arrived in the worst possible moment and walked straight into Jacques' house, just to learn that Bernardo is no longer there and Jacques is more than willing to keep the money for himself. The fact that he could do it only over the courier's dead body wasn't the circumstance that could bother him.

Esteban pulled Bernardo's arm and signed a big question mark in the air. Bernardo started to gesture as clear as he could – the rider, money, papers... but after a moment Esteban shook helplessly his head. The story was too long to be told in the rain and darkness, on the small, slippery balcony. The young man took off his hood, pointed at the courier and said one word:

"Friend?"

Bernardo nodded.

"And that must be enough for now.." muttered Esteban to himself, pushed the widow open and jumped to the room. Bernardo followed him immediately.

"Leave this man," Esteban said to surprised Jacques, aiming at him with the pistol.

Bernardo, in the first quick glance, noticed with relief that all Lisette's things disappeared from the room. Whenever she could go, she was not with Jacques anymore.

Jacques, who at first froze in surprise, regained his voice when he noticed Bernardo.

"You cripple," he hissed, "you dared to return!"

"That was very rude. You have awful manners, Jacques," noticed Esteban, waving for him to move away from the wounded courier. Jacques reluctantly made one small step, still clenching his knife and not moving his eyes from Bernardo.

"And you found yourself a friend, ha? Too scared to fight alone? So, what now, are you going to murder me?"

"Murder? That was never our intention. Now we will make it a fair fight!" exclaimed Esteban almost cheerfully putting away the pistol. The knife glittered in his hand and he moved eagerly toward Jacques, but Bernardo grabbed his arm, stopping him, and reached for the blade.

There are some businesses that decent men have to settle alone.

Esteban looked at him surprised and the merry sparks disappeared from his eyes, giving place to the confusion and anxiety. Bernardo could clearly read from his face the inner fight the young man was going through. It was obvious that he understood Bernardo, but terribly, just terribly, didn't want to let him do it...

Bernardo urged him, once again, this time more decisively reaching for his weapon.

Esteban sighed, bit his lip and very slowly, very reluctantly, handed him the knife. Bernardo pulled him gently back and the young man withdrew hesitantly just a little.

Now Bernardo turned to Jacques, who seeing the scene regained his spirit.

"You want to die first, cripple? Very well," he laughed and leaned forward shielding himself with the knife he kept. His eyes were glittering with hate and Bernardo took deep breath, realizing how little chances he had to finish this fight alive.

_Now I am fighting with the weapon my enemy masters better than me, _he thought bitterly, _but there was no other choice. _He threw one last quick glance at Esteban – the young man was observing them tensed as never before, clenching his hands on the back of the chair so strongly, that his knuckles were almost white.

Bernardo grasped the hand guard of his weapon stronger, took another deep breath and moved toward Jacques.

For a one short second the opponents stood motionless, preparing to the first attack.

And in that moment, the tense silence was broken by the sound of the clay vase that shattered over Jacques' head, followed by the clatter of the body falling on the floor.

"You, Spaniards have the tendency to overcomplicate simple matters," said the courier brushing off his hands and sitting back on his chair. He spoke Spanish with an accent that left no doubts concerning his nationality.

"And, you, Englishmen, are always so conveniently practical," Esteban said a bit cutting, but his voice shivered with relief. The young man knelled by motionless Jacques, examining his head.

"He will be stunned for at least an hour... Who could say, that clay pots can be so effective..." Esteban whispered with pensiveness shaking his head.

Bernardo stood still in the middle of the room, clenching the knife. A second before he was ready for the fight – now he felt confused and – yes, a bit disappointed. Just as if he... lost something...

"You didn't lose the chance to prove anything," Esteban rose and put his hands on Bernardo's arms, forcing his friend too look at him. "There could be no good result of this fight. You wouldn't be able to simply disarm him, at best you would manage to kill him. And his blood would haunt you more than this man is worth. We want him in prison, not dead, do you remember?"

That was true. Peace slowly returned to Bernardo's thoughts. He released his grasp on the hand guard and reached the knife back to Esteban, but the young man only shook his head.

"Keep it as a reminder of our meeting, Bernardo. You took it with the courage that would make my friend Benito proud his work serves such man. Besides, it seems to bring you luck."

Bernardo smiled. It was a good gift in a good moment... and he accepted it eagerly.

The courier coughed lightly to draw their attention.

"You are mute... you are the man I was to give the gold," he stated looking at Bernardo, and when the little man nodded, turned to Esteban: "And you?..."

"Oh, I just came across him on the way," smiled lightly Esteban.

"An adventurous lad, ha?" muttered the courier and continued to Bernardo: "I guess that thanks to your host we failed this time?"

"Whatever your quest in Montgailard was, it is lost," confirmed Esteban. "We are returning now to Spain. Do you want to go with us?"

"No. I will go my way," answered shortly Englishman.

"All right," Esteban asked no more questions, "but we must hurry. We prepared a little surprise for Jacques... and soldiers can be here any minute."

Bernardo showed the courier the note that had to serve as the proof of Jacques' guilt. The Englishman read it carefully and nodded in approval. While Bernardo was hiding the letter in Jacques pocket, the courier took one of the sacks with money and put it in under the jacket of the unconscious man.

"Now it is going to be even more credible," he muttered, and when Esteban looked at him with raised eyebrows, added chuckling:

"Even we, Englishmen, aren't deprived of sparkle of fantasy."

Esteban grinned and waved toward the window.

"Let's go now. Where is your horse, Senor?"

"In the tavern's stables."

"Well, I am afraid we cannot go there now. The patrols maybe already searching for the man who wrote the denouncement for Jacques. You and Bernardo will take our horses and I will walk."

Bernardo started to protest, but Esteban cut him off.

"That is the only way. Two men riding one horse would draw too much attention. And of us three, I have the biggest chances to sneak unnoticed. So, Bernardo, you will go to our camp and wait for me there two hours, but no more. Do you understand?" he said giving Bernardo his watch and raising two fingers.

Bernardo immediately shook his head, but Esteban smiled.

"I see you did. Two hours and not a minute longer. And remember, worry about yourself first. Even if the soldiers catch me, I will manage to get away somehow. Now let's hurry!"

They left the room not a moment too soon, as when they left the backyard, they could already see the patrol heading for the house. Luckily, they managed to reach unnoticed the place where their horses where hidden. Bernardo took Branco, knowing that Esteban would be reluctant to part with his four-legged friend. The courier, before mounting the other horse, bowed to Esteban:

"It was a pleasure to meet you, young Senor. You saved my life. However, you should be more careful in the future. If you do not tame your adventurous spirit a little, you may easily finish with the prize on your head."

"Then I would hope it would be a high prize. As my father says, the decent man can be recognized by the value of his deeds," Esteban smiled widely, saluted them and disappeared in darkness.

* * *

Bernardo didn't even once glance at the watch. He was waiting and waiting, at first anxious, thenpanicked. Much more than two hours passed, but Esteban did not appear. It was obvious that something wrong happened. Bernardo wanted to return to the town, but in the meantime the sun has risen and just to spite, the day was clear and bright. If Bernardo wanted to sneak to the town unnoticed, he had to wait till twilight. Now he could only wait and curse himself for the very same idea to return to Arreau. _We could be already in Spain... Now this boy may be dead already... I should have known better... never agreed for it... just for stupid revenge..._

Bernardo circled the meadow for the thousandth time... and almost collided with the horse that suddenly emerged from the bushes.

"Bernardo, I see that you have been waiting for me at least three times too long... Very unprofessional. But somehow, I was sure I will still meet you here," Esteban grinned merrily, leaning from his mount.

Bernardo almost gasped, seeing both the new horse and the rider. Now Esteban really looked like a highwayman – his clothes were battered and dirty, his lip was cut and on the cheekbone started to appear large bruise. When Bernardo looked at him with silent question, he only waved his hand and explained quickly:

"I overestimated my chances. The patrol stopped me. Luckily, they didn't guess I may have something in common with Jacques – by the way, he was arrested as we planned, so now you may be sure that he will spend a few nice years in prison – but they recognized me as the man who helped you in Montgailard. The _Capitaine _was quite inquisitive about the place of your stay, Bernardo... But I pretended to be stunned and they were nice enough to lock me in a room with a very big window... So I took this horse as the compensation for the bad treatment," he chuckled and added anxiously: "Now hurry, gather out belongings... we cannot stay here any longer!"

Bernardo quickly grabbed the bags, both relieved and worried. When Esteban dismounted to saddle his Branco, he noticed that young man is moving rather awkwardly, winking with pain when he bent for the saddle. And, although he covered his wrists with the long cuffs, for a moment Bernardo saw the ugly bruises that looked as if caused by ropes. Apparently, the escape from the cell was not as easy as Esteban described it. Bernardo reached to the bag for the bandage, but the young man stopped him:

"Later. Now we must go," he commanded.

So they did. Bernardo lead them through valleys and half visible paths, near enough to small villages to buy some food, but far from the tracks checked by soldiers. Esteban rode behind him in silence; from time to time Bernardo casted on him a worried glance. It was obvious, that his friend was bruised and tired, sometimes he almost hung from the saddle – but he didn't let Bernardo stop until their horses were too tired to ride any further.

Then Esteban took care of the horses as usual, but as soon as he finished, he only threw himself on the blanket falling asleep immediately when his head touched the ground. Even when Bernardo washed the scratches on his wrists, he didn't fully wake up, only shifted a little and muttered something.

Bernardo long could not fell asleep, full of worries and remorse for the trouble his young friend had because of him. He tossed anxiously on his blanket, added some wood to the fire, checked the horses... Finally he watched once again the knife Esteban gave him the day before. Yes, that will be a good reminder of Esteban Moreno. One could say, that he was like that weapon... sharp blade and warm, smooth hang guard... In the dim light of the fire Bernardo tried to examine the strange markings carved in wood, thinking about the half-Indian Benito, living somewhere far away over the big ocean, who made that knife not knowing that it will save Bernardo's life one day._ He will probably never get to know it. We will never meet, thought Bernardo with kind of regret. I only hope that someone, someday, will reciprocate to him for the help his knife brought me... _

The images of the blue of the ocean, white shores of the unknown lands and Indian signs started to dance behind Bernardo's lids, blurring into darkness, when he finally fell asleep.

* * *

When Esteban woke up in the morning, he seemed to feel much better – at least his appetite was even bigger than usual. When he reached for bread, he noticed with surprise the bandages at his wrists, apparently not remembering how Bernardo dressed them in the night.

"Thank you, Bernardo, you are indeed a man of many talents," he said with a smile, but then sighed heavily: "I hope it will heal before I return to Madrid... or they will again reprimand me for getting involved in some brawl..."

_And how unjustly! _thought Bernardo with a little smirk...

Then however, he shook his head. Madrid... It will take a few days before they even reach Spain... Mountains were not comfortable to travel at this time of the year; they had to stay near human settlements to find warm shelter from time to time... Esteban won't return to Madrid very soon... How could a stranger, a young, rich boy, certainly used to life of comfort and entertainment, get into so much trouble to help a man he barely knew? But then Bernardo shook his head once more, this time a bit ashamed of his last thought.

_He is not a stranger, _he corrected himself smiling.

* * *

**In vino veritas**

Bernardo sat more comfortably on the wide wooden bench, enjoying the warmth of the tavern – first Spanish tavern they finally reached. Crackling fire, hot water, freshly cooked food, good wine, soft bed... who could ask for anything more from life? The door from their rooms crackled and Esteban Moreno finally entered the sala. Bernardo couldn't hide amused smile. Apparently his friend needed a few more things from life to be happy – like snow white shirt and well cut woolen suit... The young man – fresh, elegant and with perfectly combed hair - looked now like during their first meeting. No one would say that this dandy can ride the whole day through wilderness... The inn-keeper beamed on his sight.

"So it is really you, Senor! I must say I hardly recognized you when you entered my place an hour before, Don..."

"Yes, what a piece of black garment and a bit of dirt can do with a man!" laughed Esteban.

Bernardo noticed the title the innkeeper wanted to use. Well, it was obvious that Esteban was from the noble family. Bernardo knew already, that Esteban studied in Madrid and his father lived in California – and it was rather not common for the citizens of California to send their children to study abroad.

"How was your trip to Tarbes, Senor?" continued the innkeeper, who apparently knew the young man quite well.

"Well, in fact I never really reached it... but the whole excursion was the most instructive," replied Esteban with his usual polite tone and Bernardo had to grin.

"Are you going now to Madrid?"

"Yes, I will already have problems with returning on time... before my leave is over. But we will stay for a night, we have to rest a while."

"I am honored as usual to have you as my guest, Senor," smiled the innkeeper.

_The young man has a way with people... These who know him treat him as friend, but still with respect..._ thought Bernardo a bit nostalgic. The exhilaration of being safe again faded a little when he realized that he will soon have to part with his friend when each of them will go his own way.

"Bernardo," said Esteban sitting in front of him, "I have been thinking that we could travel together as far as to your home in Saragossa. It is on my way."

Bernardo nodded eagerly and Esteban smiled:

"And now Bernardo, if you are not too tired... We should celebrate the happy ending of our adventure! It is a small town, but I know a perfect winery here... with just exquisite wine!"

Bernardo nodded once again and jumped on his feet grinning widely. Then however, seeing the enthusiasm of the young man, he cooled down a little. _After all this strain... the boy is likely to drink too much. I will have to take care about him, so that he doesn't overdo and returns safely to his bed... I know these young ones, they rarely know how to celebrate without getting themselves into too big trouble..."_

_

* * *

_

The first thought Bernardo managed to articulate in the morning was about California. More exactly, it was_ 'If that is how they celebrate in California, I hope my foot will never stay in this land.' _It took a while until he dared to slowly, very slowly open his eyes. He looked around the room and noticed Esteban sitting by the small table near the window, with the book on his knees and steaming mug near him. He looked terribly fresh.

Discouraged, Bernardo closed his eyes again and tried to recreate the events of the last evening.

The winery was really nice and the wine indeed exquisite. Bernardo, of course, kept an account of the mugs he emptied to be able to take care about Esteban, when the young man will reach his limits, but the wine seemed to have no effect on his friend. True, after the fourth bottle they ordered – or maybe it was the fifth one – he became quite nostalgic and complained to Bernardo how much he misses California in general and his pueblo in particular.

"You should have seen it, Bernardo, it is the nicest place in the world! Miles of nothing, only sand, rocks and dry, yellow grass... And Los Angeles! If you only saw the plaza! Small wooden houses, old well in the middle – true, it stinks a bit when it is hot, but only a bit – and no tree, only prickly opuntias and few plants in clay pots, half-withered in summer and half-rotten after the rain. I tell you, Bernardo, that is the place one cannot forget!" Esteban said sadly, swirling melancholically the wine in his glass.

Bernardo wanted to reply something, but he noticed that his fingers are... well, stuttering a little. Pity, he wanted so much to ask about the Indians.

Bernardo concentrated of formulating his question so much, that he didn't notice when Esteban started to tell him about some black foal he left in California.

"You have never seen another animal like he, Bernardo! Beautiful as night and quick as wind! And wiser than most men I meet! He will be soon old enough to carry a rider. But he will not remember me, after so many years I am sure that he will even not recognize me..." Esteban complained in the tone in which young men usually speak about unfaithful lovers. Bernardo thought it might be a sign that Esteban should be led home. Bernardo lost the account of mugs some time ago, so he started to count the bottles. After few unsuccessful tries he decided that it is definitely the time to lead Esteban home and stood up.

And then the floor wavered. _Are we on the ship?_ thought Bernardo surprised. _I was sure we are in a winery!_

"Bernardo, you are not well?" exclaimed Esteban jumping on his feet. "I am sorry, I should have noticed earlier! Do not worry, I will take you to the tavern immediately."

And apparently he did.

Bernardo gathered all his strengths and tried to raise his head from the pillow. He looked for Esteban once again and this time he noticed that maybe the young man was keeping the book on his knees, but definitely not reading it, as his eyes were closed and head resting on the back of the chair. And his vest was lopsidedly buttoned. Surprisingly, it made Bernardo feel a little better.

"Bernardo," said Esteban a bit weakly when he heard that his friend is trying to rise, "we have to discuss something."

Discuss? Now? Bernardo turned to his friend tormented sight and Esteban explained apologetically:

"Saragossa is so near..."

All right. Saragossa. The place where they will say goodbye forever. That required attention. Bernardo slowly rose, noticed the mug of water near his bed and emptied it quickly.

Esteban took a sip from his cup – apparently it was tea – as if he was gathering the courage to speak.

"I have been thinking, Bernardo... your career in France seems to be over, doesn't it? All the patrols will know that deaf-mute man is a spy."

Bernardo nodded and immediately regretted it. Esteban didn't even realize how happy he was with being able to communicate without moving his head.

"So you probably will have too look for a new job?..."

Bernardo nodded – only once and very slowly.

"You see, Bernardo, I was wondering... Maybe you would like to stay with me? It wouldn't be such exciting life as that you lead, but sometimes adventures seem to find me... In Madrid I would need a manservant... and I would always need the company of a fried..." Esteban finished quietly and looked at Bernardo with tension.

For a moment Bernardo was surprised. Not with the proposal – it seemed strangely natural – but with the shyness of his young friend. For the first time he seemed… unsure. Friends? People who differ in so many things… but even more have in common… Bernardo would certainly have some deeper reflections on this subject… if only his head wasn't splitting with pain… Right now he was able to realize only one thing - that the adventure that he thought wanear to end, in fact was just beginning…

So Bernardo nodded eagerly with wide smile and Esteban quickly stood up beaming in the same way.

They both regretted the sudden movement in the same moment. Bernardo rubbed his temple, leaning cautiously on the wall, and Esteban slowly moved back into the chair.

"Thank you, Bernardo," he said and for a moment they sat in silence. Esteban drank his tea and Bernardo emptied the next mug of water.

After a while Esteban cautiously rose:

"Well, my friend... then there is one last thing I have to explain you. Esteban Moreno is not my real name. You know," he made an undefined gesture in the air, "the Spaniard traveling alone in France should be cautious... My name is Diego de la Vega," he said turning to the window.

Bernardo took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his head, jumped to his feet and looked at his friend with irritation. He was used to be the one who cheats the others – not the one who is cheated… Esteban – well, Diego – turned back to him and raised his hands in the defensive gesture:

"Please, my friend, everyone has some little secrets. For example, you," he said a bit accusingly, "you didn't tell me that you can hear."

Bernardo's eyes went widely open. However, before he managed to react, the young man smiled:

"Just don't deny it... I suspected it from the day of our first meeting... And now," he smiled a bit wider, "when I told you my name I was standing backwards to you..."

For a moment Bernardo just stared at his friend, not sure how to react. Then slowly the smile appeared on his face and Diego laughed loudly for them both.

* * *

**The mask**

"And, Father, please, this is Bernardo, my manservant and friend. He unfortunately cannot hear nor speak, but his help is just invaluable."

Bernardo was used that when Diego presented him as a deaf mute, people turn to Diego with a kind of panic in their eyes, asking for mediation: 'How can I tell him what to do?', or 'How can I greet him?'

Don Alejandro, however, was not that kind of man. He straightly approached Bernardo, reaching the hand to him and smiling so cordially, that Bernardo did not need the words to know that he is welcome.

Father and son returned to their conversation and Bernardo looked curiously around. It was a nice house. Comfortable. A house, that was loved by its owner. Each piece of furniture, each decoration was situated in a way not to look the best, but to serve the best to its inhabitants. Bernardo understood now, why Diego wanted so much to return to this place.

And California – it was beautiful too. Just as Diego described it – miles of nothing. But beautiful. _So much place here, _thought Bernardo, _How strange after the crowded cities of Spain..._

And the Indians. Bernardo had already seen the Indians in the pueblo. Soon he will have the occasion to talk to them... or even meet these, who decided to live in their traditional way, instead of adopting the lifestyle of the Europeans.

Bernardo was absolutely happy that Diego had to return to California one year earlier than it would result from the curriculum of his studies.

Oh, yes, they already met the reason of their early return too. That fancy Capitán, Monastario, far too dashing for such small pueblo in his parade uniform with all orders and decorations. He behaved toward Diego with spotless politeness, yet Bernardo knew already that he was a bad man. And no, the source of this knowledge was not Don Alejandro's letter, in which he summoned his son to return as soon as possible, to help him to cope with "certain issues". And it was not the warnings from the friendly boatswain they traveled with. Bernardo just saw it in the Capitán's eyes – greed and cruelty. And he saw it in the eyes of this fat sergeant – he saw his fear, when he danced anxiously around his superior.

And Diego... Diego looked out of place too, in his parade suit, with the walking stick and book in his hand... He was lost, clumsy, slow... His usual, a bit roguish, pose of a charming swashbuckler disappeared, giving place to the awkward, meek and weak scholar... That was the role he decided to play – to convince the Capitán that he is absolutely harmless... to remain beyond all suspicions and move away the danger from his father, while Diego will be secretly fighting Monastario...

Strange, but Diego and Monastario, so unfitting to their surrounding, seemed in some weird way to suit to each other. _That commandante may seem funny, but he will be a worthy opponent,_ thought Bernardo.

When they reached finally reached the hacienda, Bernardo watched with a smile how Diego ran to his father – the famous father Bernardo heard so much about, that finally he hardly knew what to expect... Now he saw the man with white beard but young eyes that were glittering with the same joy as Diego, when they were greeting and hugging. Bernardo thought that father and son are very much alike – the only difference between them was that Don Alejandro seemed to have all his feelings and emotions immediately written on his face... whereas Diego... well, on the contrary...

For a moment when father and son greeted, Diego behaved as himself, so full of joy and energy, forgetting the role he played in pueblo. Now however, Don Alejandro started already to complain about Monastario... and it was a time to continue the show.

"Father, I am sure that we will find some way," Bernardo heard Diego's voice. "I tried to study the law... I brought some books... I am sure that we can together write a detailed letter to the governor explaining him the situation, and..."

"Books? Letter?" asked Don Alejandro a bit incredulously, looking at his son in disbelief, "I do not think that... No, Diego, let's not discuss it now. You must be extremely tired. Rest now, and we will return to that subject later."

"Of course, Father, but I just fail to see what else we could do... Monastario represents here the King's authority!" Diego shook helplessly his arms and Don Alejandro stared at him for a moment. Finally he muttered: "Just rest a while, Diego," and disappeared somewhere.

Bernardo wanted to wink to Diego and congratulate him good performance, but the young man wasn't smiling... only leaning on the desk, biting his lip and clenching his fists.

_Until this moment he had no idea how it really will be to lie to his own father... his beloved father... _though Bernardo with compassion. He gently touched Diego's arm – and the young man looked at him with new determination in his eyes:

"Come, Bernardo. There are plenty things we had to do."

* * *

"I hardly can see anything. The hole for the left eye is just too small," complained Diego taking off the mask. "Really, Bernardo, you said you have some idea about sewing!" he nagged and took the knife: "I will show you how that should be done."

Diego leaned over the piece of the black material, cautiously moving the knife... Suddenly the blade slipped on the silk and Bernardo heard the crack of the torn material.

Bernardo did his best to hide the grin, when Diego froze confused, watching two separated pieces of the black silk he held now in his hands.

Finally the young man stood up and threw the black rags into the fire.

"All right," he said taking a deep breath and gathering his patience, "we cannot have it ordered by the tailor, so we are starting again. From the beginning," he wavered toward the big sheet of the black silk. "This time you keep and I cut."

**THE END**

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_The story is marked as complete, but I may add in the future more chapters describing the adventures of Zorro (or Diego during his studies…) from Bernardo's point of view… I think it might be quite funny… However, the future additions are not going to change the story you just read._

_Thank you for your time you devoted to read this story. I hope you found it worth it…_


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